clear crystal Greek, like the sound of a brook to a sick man as he tosses thirsty on his pillow. Υγιεια πρεσβιστα μακαρων μετά σου να σιμι Oh, holiest Health! all other gods excelling, With thy kind favour, and in life's | oor dwelling If aught of charm or grace to mortal lingers Or children's happy faces in their play, Or whatsoever joy or breathing space Thine is the charm, to thee they owe the grace. "In Eryx in Sicily there is a certain time of the year which they call the Anagogæ, during which, they say, that Venus departs for Libya, and then the doves all vanish in the neighbour hood, as if they too accompanied the goddess; and after nine days, at the period called the Catagogia, a single white dove is suddenly seen flying from the sea in the direction of her temple; and then too all the others return. And all the wealthy inhabitants who live near make this a season of much festivity, and the common people also applaud with great joy. And in those days the whole place appears to smell as of butter; and they receive this as a sign of the goddess's return." At the close of the eighth book he has some beautiful remarks on the ancient custom of libations during feasts. "For the ancients, holding that the gods were of human form, made use of this in their feasts. For, when they saw that men could not be prevented from such festive pleasures, they judged it wise and seemly that such entertainments should be conducted soberly and in order. They therefore set apart definite periods, and, before they relaxed their minds into hilarity, they first offered sacrifice to the gods, that each of the guests might remember that the gods were come to the offering and the libations, and might thus enter the feast with a feeling of reverential awe. . . . . . For, even if an aged and venerable man be present, men are ashamed of any riotous revelry; and much more, therefore, would they be likely to conduct themselves discreetly and soberly, if they believed that the gods themselves formed a part of the company." These extracts give but a poor idea of the work, but they may still serve as specimens of its various contents. It is in truth just such a book as a poor grammarian might be supposed to write, who lived in those unquiet days, and who loved all that belonged to Greece and her history so fondly, that even her rags and relics seemed holy. Grammar rules, and aspirates, and conjugations, were poetry to him, for they were the echoes of what had been the living sounds in Athens' palmy days; and the minutest details even about her accents were precious in his eyes. Gibbon calls Libanius "a recluse student, whose mind, regardless of his contemporaries, was incessantly fixed on the Trojan war and the Athenian commonwealth." The character, perhaps, but not the sting, of the sarcasm, belongs to Athenæus. He was indeed no hollow sophist, and his book is as genuine an outburst of his heart, as the Iliad. It is a book in which his love lingers over every page: the modern reader may turn away in disgust from his long dissertations about trifles; but he may be assured that his author spent as much study and labour on these heavier parts as on any of the pieces which he admires. Emerson says, that "Nature plants an eye wherever a new ray of light may fall;" and she planted Athenæus exactly in that spot of time where the glories of Greece's sunset were seen on the horizon of the past to the most advantage, from the contrast afforded by the evening shadows which were gathering over the Roman world. He has thus preserved for us many a detail which would otherwise have been inevitably lost. Many a lighter feature which graver writers would have scorned to allude to, and which later writers would have been utterly unable to portray, is thus sketched indelibly in his pages, and in his alone, of all the extant authors of antiquity. E. B. C. WE have been requested by a Correspondent to insert the following narrative, derived from The General Evening Post, and we presume published at the time it was written. "An extract of a letter from Colchester, dated Aug. 18, 1752. 'Perhaps you have heard that a chest was seized by the custom-house officers which was landed near this place about a fortnight ago. They took it for smuggled goods, though the person with it produced the King of France's signature to Mr. Williams, as a Hamburgh merchant. Our people, not satisfied with the account Mr. Williams gave, opened the chest, and one of them was going to run his hanger in, when the person to whom it belonged clapped his hand upon his sword, and desired him to desist (in French), for it was the corpse of his dear wife. Not contented with this, the officers plucked off the embalming, and found it as he had said. The man, who appeared to be a person of consequence, was in the utmost agonies while they made a spectacle of the lady. They set her in the high church, where any body might come and look on her, and would not suffer him to bury her till he gave a further account of himself. There were other chests of fine clothes, jewels, &c. belonging to the deceased. He acknowledged at last that he was a person of quality; that his name was *St. Mary's, Colchester. "This church stands pleasantly in the highest part of the town." Morant, p. 108. He not Williams; that he was born at Florence, and the lady was a native of England, whom he married, and she desired to be buried in Essex; that he had brought her from Verona in Italy to France by land, then hired a vessel for Dover, discharged the vessel there, and took another for Harwich, but was drove hither by contrary winds. This account was not enough to satisfy the people; he must tell her name and condition, in order to clear himself of a suspicion of murder. He was continually in tears, and had a key of the vestry, where he sat every day with the corpse. My brother went to see him there, and the scene so shocked him he could hardly bear it; he said it was so like Romeo and Juliet. was much pleased with my brother, as he talked both Latin and French, and (to his great surprise) told him who the lady was, which proving to be a person he knew, he could not help uncovering the face. In short, the gentleman confessed he was the Earl of Rosebary's son (the name is Primrose), and his title Lord Delamere ; † that he was born and educated in Italy, and never was in England till two or three years ago, when he came to London, and was in company with this lady, with whom he fell passionately in love, and prevailed on her to quit the kingdom and marry him; that, having bad health, he had travelled with her all over Europe, and when she was dying she asked for a pen and paper, and wrote-I am the wife of the Rev. Mr. G, Rector of Th-, in Essex; my maiden name was C. Cannon, and my last request is, to be buried at Th-.' The poor gentleman who last married her protests he never knew till this confession on her death-bed she was another's wife; but, in compliance with her desire, he brought her over, and should have buried her at Th― (if the corpse had not been stopped) without making any stir about it. After the nobleman had made this confession, they sent to Mr. G., who put himself at first in a passion, and threatened to run her last husband through the body. However, he was prevailed on to be calm: it was represented to him that this gentleman had been at great † Dalmeny. expense and trouble to fulfil her desire; and Mr. G. consented to see him. (They say the meeting was very moving, and that they addressed each other civilly.) The stranger protested his affection to the lady was so strong that it was his earnest wish not only to attend her to the grave, but to be shut up for ever with her there. Nothing in romance ever came up to the passion of this man. He had a very fine coffin made for her, with six large silver plates over it; and at last was very loth to part with her to have her buried. He put himself in the most solemn mourning, and on Sunday last in a coach attended the corpse to Th-, where Mr. G. met it in solemn mourning likewise. The Florentine is a genteel person of a man, seems about twenty-five years of age, and, they say, a sensible man; but there never was anything like his behaviour to his dear dear wife, for so he would call her to the last. Mr. G. attended him to London yesterday, and they were very civil to each other; but my lord is inconsolable. He says, he must fly Eng land, which he never can see more. have had this account from many hands, and can assure you it is fact. Kitty Cannon is, I believe, the first woman in England that had two husbands attend her to the grave toge ther. You may remember her to be sure; her life would appear to be more romantic than a novel.'" I Horace's ode, Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus tam chari capitis? appeared in a periodical publication addressed to his sister Lady Dorothea: Why strive we, Primrose, to conceal The swelling tear, the sigh represt, The pangs our bleeding bosoms feel For thy lov'd brother, sunk to rest?" The remainder is not given us by the genealogist.* On Lord Dalmeny's death, his brother Neil became heir to the peerage, to which he shortly after succeeded, and lived to a great age, Mr. Wood remarking that at the time of his writing in 1812 he was "the only person alive, who was a peer of Scotland, of legitimate age, at the accession of his present Majesty King George III." His Lordship died in 1814, in his 85th year, when he was succeeded by his son the present Earl of Rosebery, who is therefore no further removed than nephew from this subject of a tale a century old. The other party must have been the Rev. James Alexander Gough, for the initials of his name and benefice agree, only the latter was a vicarage not a rectory. This gentleman was vicar of Thorpe near Colchester from the 8th Aug. 1745, to the 7th Oct. 1774, when his death is recorded in our Magazine for that year. Since the preceding remarks were written, we find that this sad narrative has been employed by the late Mrs. Hofland, as the ground-work of the first of her " Tales of the Manor," published in 1822. It was there introduced as "a true story ;" and to its conclusion is appended a note, stating that "The author received this story from an old lady who was well acquainted with this gentleman [i. e. the first husband], whose name, as well as that of the nobleman, she has a little altered from the ori ginals." The nobleman's name Mrs. Hofland altered to Rosedew; the clergyman's to Collinson. The heroine she named Mercy Cecill. The minor incidents are varied; the nobleman is already a peer, but a peer of Scotland. The lady dies just before coming to shore; the coffin is opened in the church, an *Douglas's Peerage of Scotland, by Wood, vol. ii. p. 408. act of violence which is accounted for by the political excitement of the day, the time of the story being placed in 1745. Mr. Collinson is the clergyman accidentally engaged to perform the service, which is at Colchester itself; and he is struck to the earth by beholding his own lost wife exposed to view. Some weeks after, he is led to the death-bed of Lord Rosedew, from whom he receives presentation to an excellent living: and the story concludes thus: "He lived to enjoy his acquisition many years, for he visited me since your mother was born; but he was always a man subject to great depression of spirits at times, and which is now called nervous; but he be came one of great forbearance of temper, On the whole we think that Mrs. Hofland had not seen the same original statement which is now brought forward; and some of our readers may be able to point out some different source of the novelist's version. A VISIT TO BROUGHAM HALL, In a letter addressed to James Dearden, Esq. of The Orchard and Handle Hall, Lancashire. MY DEAR DEARDEN-You ask me for some account of the old embattled mansion of Brougham Hall, the seat of the ex-Chancellor Lord Brougham, and which through the kindness of his lordship I visited last autumn. The domain is in Westmorland, though upon the extreme border and nigh unto Cumberland, and is situated amid a succession of gradually diminishing woody hills and green headlands, which connect the open country with the mighty mountainous chain surrounding the lakes. The nearest town is Penrith, and from hence a pleasant walk of a mile or so on the Shap road brings you to the gate, after passing through a succession of inclosures sprinkled with old gabled cottages and farm-houses, clothed in a most luxuriant garb of wild rose and honeysuckle, intermingled with the darker ivy. The first distinct view from the road is immediately after passing the old British remain "King Arthur's round table," and before ascending the celebrated and no less picturesque bridge of Lowther, so well known as the spot where Cluny Macpherson engaged the advanced guard of the Duke of Cumberland in 1745, and brought off the artillery belonging to the Highland army. From this place the old hall assumes a very imposing appearance. Grey, GENT. MAG. VOL. XXIX. venerable, and massive, it crowns the summit of a precipitous bank, and from its resemblance has been not inaptly termed the Windsor of the North. The principal feature from this point of view is a huge square tower, embrasured and machicolated, rising above and connecting itself with various masses of embattled buildings, and grouping in the most pictorial fashion with the aged trees which feather the steep descent to the river. Nothing could be more picturesque than it was as I first saw it, sometimes for a moment reposing its darkened and shadowy mass of battlements and towers upon the white, driving, fleecy clouds, and the next standing out in high relief upon a back-ground of deep blue sky or deeper cloud, with all its small irregular and diamond-paned casements sparkling and glittering in the sun. Crossing Lowther Bridge, the visitor leaves the main road through the park gate, and, passing for a short distance through the wood, finds himself beneath the terrace immediately in front of the great tower, which seems to have been constructed, from the situation and direction of the machicolations, with the intention of defending this part of the approach. The road now winds round the base of the buildings, splayed down and but3 B tressed at intervals, and in some parts discovering portions of scarped rock, revealing the foundations of the edifice. A narrow ribbed bridge over head at one point connects the terrace with the chapel, beneath which the road advances, and thence through the upper part of an old avenue, between the ruins of the castle and the hall, to the principal gateway, a low heavy tower, partially covered with ivy, through which peer out two or three most significant loop holes, giving assurance of and bearing witness to the warm reception unwelcome visitors might have got in days of yore. Beneath the arch swing an ancient and most formidable pair of iron-studded oak-plank gates, four inches thick, with a small wicket for foot passengers. These gates are now so much dilapidated that they are suffered to repose against each side, and a modern, frail, barred gate usurps their ancient occupation. The old oaks in the avenue are getting stag-headed, and seem fast dying away, more's the pity, forming as they do so desirable an accompaniment, with their shattered and knarled branches twisted in all manner of fantastic forms, so delightful to the artist. What a strange charm there is in these stunted, doddered old trees, and still more so in the feudal and embattled halls of the ancient gentry, hoary with age and the war of elements and of man, with all their historic and romantic associations; crisp with partially decaying masonry, and tinted by lichen, inosses, and all the small vegetation which so much delights in old walls. Passing through the archway, the antiquary is delighted with the large venerable courtyard into which he thus gains admittance, surrounded by buildings of various ages, though none to appearance later than the time of Henry VII. and arranged in the most picturesque and irregular manner, partly covered with ivy, and the walls gray with the weather-stains of centuries. The edifice is in great part built of the limestone of the district, which assumes a great variety of tone and colour after long exposure to the atmosphere. The windows, doorways, &c. are of sandstone. From this court a stone-groined arched pas sage beneath a tower large enough for carriages leads into a second court, appertaining to the offices, stables, &c. and having a clock tower, and another arched gatehouse leading into the park. The principal suit of apartments occupies three sides of the large court first entered, and in the centre a porch, embattled and with buttresses, admits through a most hospitable-looking archway into a sort of cloistered passage running along the entire front of this range of the buildings, and through it into the great hall, a magnificent apartment, and worthy to banquet the best of all its noble and learned owner's most distinguished friends. Its dimensions are from forty to fifty feet long by twenty wide and high, with an oaken roof resting on spandrils, the whole illuminated with gold and brilliant colours, lately renovated. The walls are paneled with napkin paneling some twelve feet high, and above hang demi-suits of armour, intermixed with weapons and stags' antlers. At the upper end of the hall is the fireplace, richly carved in stone, and beneath its wide yawning arch is a reredos and andirons or dogs, bearing the arms of Henry VII., for burning wood. Above are two full suits of armour, one bright, and the other allecret, and between them a beautiful demi-suit of bright steel inlaid with gold. Grouping with these military accoutrements are pennoncels and banners. In a recessed part of the wall, upon the court cupboard, stand various old pieces of silver-gilt plate and other matters of antiquity, and upon the paneling are suspended guns, old matchlocks, swords, and other weapons, which, from their family associations and interest, are hung low for greater convenience of examination; the most particular of which is the old Saxon horn, a very interesting relic, by possession of which some how or other the lands were anciently held. At the bottom of the hall is a screen of richly-carved oak, perforated; and here stand other three full cap-à-pie suits of bright armour; one a very fine suit, temp. Henry VI., another, a fluted suit, time of Henry VIII., and the third of Elizabeth's reign. The old flagged stone floor has been recently replaced by encaustic tiles, having the armorial devices of the family inlaid upon quar |